


Trouble

by ThePersephone



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gen, He doesn't intend to let it go, Is one even allowed to seduce a priestess?, Loki finds trust for the first time, Other, That doesn't mean he know what the hell to do with it though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-06-28 02:39:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15698418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePersephone/pseuds/ThePersephone
Summary: Set post Infinity War- Spoilers! -Loki did his best to avenge Asgard & his brother. He heard his last words, but this certainly wasn't an afterlife. Where the hell has he been dragged now, and why does it feel like he is still dying?“He's nothing but trouble. Saving him is not worth my time”, the old woman sounded like gravel against mud.“Lola! Don’t talk that way”, a softer voice cut in.





	1. Chapter 1: The Trouble with Breathing

**Trouble**

**Disclaimer** : Loki, Thor, The Avengers and all related characters belong to Marvel and their incredible creators. I make no monetary profit from this work it is only for entertainment.

 **Spoiler Warning:** This does occur immediately after the events of Infinity War! So be advised that spoilers are littered throughout even the first chapter.

 **Author’s Note** : It has been a hot minute since I have dabbled in a new fandom. Oddly enough I have always thought the Tom Hiddleston embodiment of Loki was pure gold, but I never dared dabble in the complex Marvel fandom. However, after the amazing character development that Loki went through to be crushed in the first moments of Infinity War I felt stung. Not just by a plot bunny on how to avenge this wronging of a character who had been so painstakingly crafted, but over how all of Asgard’s refugees seemed to meet a similar fate with the exception of Thor… and then like some of my ideas it wouldn’t leave me alone.

 

Breathe deeply,

until sweet air extinguishes the

burn of fear in your lungs and

every breath is a beautiful

refusal to become anything

less than infinite.

~ D. Antoinette Foy

 

**Chapter 1: The Trouble with Breathing**

One would expect a few possibilities at the final moments. The options for what lay beyond the last breath truly dwindle down to nothing or an assortment of tales of the afterlife. The God of Mischief had face death once or twice before, and honestly expected cold silence. For a moment that was what he had…

However, that did not last. He woke hurtling toward the ground, gasping for breath as though he was still being squeezed. He landed harshly onto cold and unyielding ground surrounded by light that faintly reminded him of the bifrost. Had he not seen Heimdal die moments before he had felt his own last breath he would have assumed this was the gatekeeper’s doing. Yet, here he was barely breathing. This was certainly no glorious afterlife. He could feel that the framework of his throat had been crushed and each breath came through what felt like the thinnest of openings.

The sky was dark but he could make out the shapes of great trees overhead, and he could hear the push and pull of what sounded to be a sea. There were also voices, hushed and curious as their owners rushed to his side. A hodgepodge of creatures drifted past his ever darkening vision before the largest of the group hauled him up and began to run. They were all yelling now for some healer.

If he had the energy he would have laughed as they dragged him through a small village. What could some pitiful healer offer in his condition? Perhaps this was his curse for his many crimes? He would die again and again in new and pitiable places?

When his eyes opened he found himself sprawled on a table with an ancient looking woman crooning over him. Her hands hovered over his throat before she cast her milky colored eyes to his face. What luck, a blind healer.

“He is nothing but trouble. Saving him may not be worth my time”, the old woman sounded like gravel against mud.

“Lola! Don’t talk that way”, a softer voice cut in.

The new figure shooed the old woman back, and set about examining his neck. She was a young maiden, and her brows knit with concentration as she carefully prodded him. Her warm fingertips angled his jaw and she met his gaze with golden hazel eyes. For a moment she only looked at him and he observed the freckles on her cheeks and matching dots of emerald in her eyes.

“You will not like this, but if you are to survive you must trust me.” Her voice was quiet and sure.

He watched her warily, his energy so weak he could not even call forth his seidr. She retrieved her tools, and they proved rather gruesome in their simplicity. A bowl with a sharp smell wafting from it contents, a cloth, and a small sharp blade. It was only then that he noticed his skin. In such a desperate state he was visible in his true Jotun heritage, yet this woman who looked to be some mortal did not shrink from him. She could pass for some midgardian, but she touched him. He could see how the Jotun’s curse crept up her fingertips from touching his neck before now. Just as it had given the frost poison to any asgardian warrior who crossed them it now harmed her as she attempted to save him.

“You young priestesses want to save everything that falls”, the old woman grumbled observing the painful effect on her younger companion. “Careful not to harm yourself too much in the process. You need to work faster girl.”

The younger nodded, and sent him an apologetic look before swiping the cloth with pungent smelling liquid over his neck and collar. Then, grasping the blade in one hand and prodding the area with the careful fingertips. He watched in abject horror as she moved the blade across his throat in a short motion. Then, the first real breath filled his lungs. The blade was passed to the elder, and upon his second deep breath she continued with the cloth again to stem the bleeding.

The girl slipped away though. Her petite frame sliding down from the table he was sprawled out on to the ground. Her arms clasped to her middle which had turned dark and likely filled with the vicious poison. The elder woman grunted and managed to ease down to where the young priestess tried to quietly writhe in pain. A bowl was in her hand with some concoction that she began to spread on her arms. This seemed to soothe her somewhat and she sank back with unshed tears gathering at her dark lashes.

The elder nodded to his direction, “Well, he’s alive. Now, you have to fix him. Good luck you little brat.”

A smile curled his lips despite the pain that still lanced at his neck. If he could find his voice he would have wholeheartedly agreed with the old hag. The girl now painted in mud gave a huff at the old woman and rolled her eyes. She looked at him with hope though, and it made the darkness that fell over his vision feel so much different then the last bout.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Loki woke to the soft light of morning, and humming. The young priestess hovered over him again. This time she held a bowl of sweet smelling liquid that reminded him of honey. She painted it onto his injured neck with a heavy brush with care. She greeted his watchful gaze with a cheery smile. Her dark hair was gathered into a high ponytail and the length of it easily reached the table while she worked. A few strands tickled at his cheek and ear, and he found them soft like down.

“These oils will help bring your voice back”, she intoned softly.

She then drew up wrappings and thin bones likely from some avian creature. “These will help the body heal.”

She set to work setting the bones and wrappings about his neck with care to create a brace. While a large part of him wanted to scoff at the primitive simplicity of such a spell he could feel the power to her movements. With each bone she painted another strip of oil, spread wrapping and murmured in some tongue he did not know. He could feel curls of her energy seeping into this craft and spreading warmth, blessed and numbing warmth to his injured and aching body.

“Soon, you should be feeling much better, and you should be able to tell me more. For now, may I ask you a few questions. You could raise one finger for yes and two for no. Is that fair?” She settled next to him again though careful not to risk touching him as she smoothed the curing mud onto her again poisoned hands.

He lifted a brow, but raised his index finger. Oh how he ached for his voice…

She nodded, “Do you know where you are?”

He raise two fingers.

“You are on the planet Sabal in the Northern mountains. Our village is called Arlo and we are far from the only trading port on the planet, well during the limited time that we are an open port.” She tapped her muddy fingers together as her eyes turned solemn. “Were your injuries from a creature called Thanos?”

He felt curiosity spark through him and cautiously raised his index finger again.

“I thought as much. Sabal is an ancient place, and we have a spell to help those harmed by Thanos. The spell is far from perfect, but it does offer some assistance for those who survive the journey.” She murmured to him as the subject turned serious.

He attempted to digest this information and catalog his many rising questions for review when he had a voice. However, his clever mind could not ignore one thing. He lifted his index finger to point directly at her. Her honey and sage eyes glanced at this before a blush settled over her cheeks.

“I’m sorry! I am the priestess Serena. You are my responsibility until you can be productive and capable on your own.” She stammered bashfully before scurrying away to clean the room.

It was still unsettling that his breathing mostly came from the base of his throat at the moment, but at least he was breathing. While his caretaker appeared barely an adult she seemed powerful and foolhardy enough to keep him alive. Not to mention this place and its people had the audacity to defy Thanos in such a way gave him an immediate liking to this Sabal.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next few days passed in a haze. His little priestess tended to him, but the old hag insisted they not feed him. She had a point. Jotun healed faster when their bodies were under stress, and he could go without a meal for a few days. Not that he liked it.

One day though he woke to the sound of a small crash. The sound of a pot clattering to the ground. His eyes opened to find his priestess staring at him like a ghost and a quick glance explained why. His seidr had begun to return, and so had his asgardian form. He was able to sit up and to his great pleasure clear his throat.

“Don’t worry little priestess. It is still I, Loki”, his voice was rough but gratefully returned with some of his strength.

She blinked, her large eyes impossibly wide, and took a cautious step closer. “Loki?”

Her expression morphed from shock to delighted curiosity. Her fingers ran over the closed wound at the base of his throat she had inflicted to save his life. Her warm eyes turned to him in question. “You are a sorcerer?”

He smirked watching her mind run a mile a moment, “Of sorts, little priestess.”

She gave a snort and continued to marvel at his new appearance. Her eyes drifted about and he would wager she could sense the lines of energy his seidr traveled from her movements. Marvelous little priestess indeed.

“Can you walk?” She chirped suddenly.

Loki quirked a brow and swung his long legs from the table and settled his weight on them with care. Before he could test just how stable he was on them however his little priestess was at his side. She barely reached his shoulder and easily slid to his side, bracing him. Her pale, loose fitting shirt had never proven to show much, but now he could feel her warmth radiating into his side. She smiled up at him when he grasped at her waist and found it narrow.

She happily helped him into the next room which he found an odd mixture of what he considered advanced technology similar to Sakaar and downright medieval. She helped him to settle into a chair and he disdained how much energy it actually drained from him to do such a simple task. She hustled about and set a plate of food before him. He prodded the textureless mass apprehensively.

She gave him a reassuring smile and added a piece of bread, “It will not be the most delicious meal, but it is your first food in days. Bland is good for an empty stomach. We can work your way back to rich.”

He managed a bite before the old hag appeared in the doorway. A scowl curled her lips as she seemed to gather the scene without vision. Her gravely voice grunted, “You should have let him die.”

“Lola, you are in a cheery mood this morning”, his little priestess seemed undeterred by the old hag’s sourness and began to prepare a plate for her. Though it looked much better in terms of menu.

“Loki is feeling better”, his little priestess continued sitting down across from himself and the old witch.

Lola gave a snort, “Loki needs a bath.”

The God of Mischief felt his hackles raise. This old bat tested his patience. However, the quiet giggle of his caregiver cut through his revenge plotting. He lifted a brow at the new prospect, as she spoke.

Full rosy lips suppressed their giggles, “Lola, a bath is next on our to do list. I promise.”

Loki felt the bait to easy to snatch and his voice purred out, “Will you be bathing me little priestess?”

A piece of bread landed squarely between his eyes, and Serena muttered to herself under pink cheeks. A sharp glare made her warm eyes blaze and he could feel her energy curl and spark delightfully against his own. Oh what a toy she could be to entertain him, and what a marvel to behold when she was angry! It brought a clever spark of wonder to him for the first time in he didn’t know how long.

“I told you. You should have let him die. He is nothing, but trouble.” Lola murmured digging into her meal.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Author's note-**

 

So, first thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it, and I will update it soon.

 

Again, this is my first adventure ever into writing for the Marvel Universe, so please feel free to give me opinions. I am incredibly nervous about capturing a tone correctly for the characters, Loki chief among them. Also, let me know what you think! Thank you so much!!!

 

This has now been put through its paces by my darling Dragon!

 

Reviews are incredibly important to me because they are my only real way to gauge the audience.  I welcome all feedback, so please let me know how I did! Thank you so much for reading!

 

Love,

 

Persephone


	2. Chapter 2: There is a Trick to It

**Trouble**

**Disclaimer** : Loki, Thor, The Avengers and all related characters belong to Marvel and their incredible creators. I make no monetary profit from this work it is only for entertainment.

**Spoiler Warning:** This does occur immediately after the events of Infinity War! So be advised that spoilers are littered throughout even the first chapter.

**Author’s Note** : It has been a hot minute since I have dabbled in a new fandom. Oddly enough I have always thought the Tom Hiddleston embodiment of Loki was pure gold, but I never dared dabble in the complex Marvel fandom. However, after the amazing character development that Loki went through to be crushed in the first moments of Infinity War- I felt stung. Not just by a plot bunny on how to avenge this wronging of a character who had been so painstakingly crafted, but over how all of Asgard’s refugees seemed to meet a similar fate with the exception of Thor… and then like some of my ideas it wouldn’t leave me alone.

The thing about chaos,

is that while it disturbs us, it too,

forces our hearts to roar

in a way we secretly find magnificent.

~Christopher Poindexter

 

**Chapter 2: There is a Trick to It**

Morning came to the village of Arlo with a crispness Loki found he liked. It was fall for the land he was staying in, and his little priestess chirped along merrily despite the bitter cold outside in the early hours. She rose each morning with the sun, and knocked on the door to his own modest room to force him to rise with her. He would wash and obediently wait at the main hearth of the large farm home while she bustled about with the others who lived and worked on the farm he now remained at for the time being. There were a few farm workers. Two strong looking men with plain faces who only offered him niceties when the little priestess was about.

The old hag, Lola, seemed to be in charge of keeping an eye on him during the day. The irony was not lost on him as the blind old bat seemed far more wise to his abilities than her young apprentice. Two weeks had passed and his body made achingly slow improvement. He no longer felt pain, but he tired far too quickly. A simple run would likely wind him. It was a bitter reminder to his youth on Asgard. He had always been weaker than his brother there, and had never truly known why until so much later. This case was different though, and now each day proved he gained a little of his power back, and he only needed to bide his time.

To kill that time he attempted to learn about his surroundings. The first step had been a revelation about just where he was. This farm appeared normal at first glance with rolling fields of crops and what appeared to be sheep. But it became something rather unique at dawn and dusk. As the sun dwindled and rose far different creatures were tended to in particular by the two priestesses. Ancient creatures he had only seen used for war and vengeance appeared to be gentle as the lambs in pasture under the maiden’s care.

Dragons, he scoffed at the thought. He had seen his brother slay dragons as mindless and bloodthirsty beasts. Yet here, on this farm in some far away mountains, huge dragons stood on tall, proud legs and bowed when the little priestess curtsied to them. Her cream colored hands fretted over dark scales larger than her head and toyed with spines on their faces the length of her arm that she assured him were decorative. The old bat chuckled at his interest on his initial discovery and had only offered the slimmest of explanations.

“Serena is blessed by the beasts. They are her kin and kind. When I took her in they began to arrive and they offer protection and we give them a peaceful home.” Lola grunted from her knitting.

The farm was full of books, and Lola napped regularly. So he helped himself to understanding how this farm seemed to do so well for itself. The dragons did not just offer protection. Their shed fangs and skin offered lucrative trade, and could be harvested easily. He also found books on this realm. These priestesses and their home were indeed ancient, but the legends he found were in older texts and the language garbled. How had this realm been unknown to Asgard?

His wondering was cut off when his little priestess returned with his lunch. She eyed the text in his hand, but said nothing. She chose instead to move about the hearth tidying after Lola’s knitting, abandoned for a nap in her rooms. He marveled at how casual she was about him. True she knew little, but still she was simply so open to attack on any level. It was so hard not to take the bait each day.

Occasionally, his nature won out and his seidr would slip into some illusion. Once a feral beast waiting around a corner. She had yelped and dropped the dishes she had been carrying. Another time he managed to keep up a pretense of Lola for several minutes before her golden eyes narrowed on him. It seemed she could see through his illusions rather quickly since she could sense his seidr. However, she was possibly more fun to simpy tease and a sight to behold when her temper rose forth.

“Have you been good today Trouble?” She smiled at him as she prepared their meal.

He rather liked the little nickname, and let a smirk curl his lips, “I do try little priestess.”

She rolled her eyes, but the smile kept her pretty pink lips turned upwards. He enjoyed her resilience. She rarely returned his attacks or barbs. Instead her only weapon seemed to be well placed sarcasm alongside her kindness. She was a blunt and kind creature who seemed to act rather than speak.

In his few weeks here she always prefered to simply do things rather than plan them. Her hands always seemed busy and her pace always brisk.  She healed him. She quietly tended to him often. She did not chastise his antics. If anything, when her temper flared and her cheeks reddened she often chose to turn on her heel and leave him with his mess. She would go do something else for a while having learned quickly that reacting to his tricks only entertained him more.

That didn’t mean he still didn’t try though. Loki leaned forward, resting his chin in his palm and lowered his voice, “You still need to give me that bath.”

Her form visibly twitched and he bit back a snicker. She wore snug leather pants that showed off her shapely legs and rounded hips. Her billowy cream shirt was less appealing and hid the rest of her shape. He watched her shift her weight in her worn leather boots, and her high ponytail sway with the subtle motion.

“You have been bathing yourself just fine, Trouble”, she muttered turning to him with their plates and pink cheeks.

She was so easy to taunt in this way. Her innocence showed in such things. Her cream colored skin was flushed and its honey-like glow from her irritated powers crisped at the surface to his trained eyes. She chewed her full lips and eyed him cautiously. His nature was eager to test this boundary and while his body was weak his seidr was returning well enough.

He summoned an illusion of himself to hover behind her. Her eyes grew wide at the feat and she leaned away when the new version of him reached out and toyed with a tendril of her hair. His figure behind loomed over her and she cast wary eyes to his solid form across from her, desperate for reassurance.

“Tell me are all priestesses here as innocent as you little one?” He chuckled darkly as she balked at his words.

He watched as she stormed out of the room and slammed the door. He could almost taste her fear and curiosity. Her temper was an even greater wonder. He grinned impishly, returning to his meal in silence, pleased with his ability to unnerve her so easily. However, as the day wore on his pleasure dwindled. The younger priestess did not return to her meal and nor did she appear at the evening meal where the two hard faced farmhands, Oskar and Fisk, glared at him pointedly.

This he could shrug off, but she still did not return even as the fire roared and the cold returned with the darkness. Something akin to guilt twisted in his gut and a whisper of his mother’s voice from his youth hissed in his ear. He rose and slipped from the home. The twilight air was full of the sound of the great beasts gently stirring the earth as they made their way out of their caves at the base of the mountain beyond the farm.

He could also hear the melodic humming of his priestess. She often did this without thought while applying his honey salve or cooking. She did not sing, but the humming was clear and musical enough to know she likely could. The great reptiles seemed to pay him no mind as he moved past them following the song of the maiden that tended them.

He found her in one of the caves, cleaning the blood and dirt from a fang the size of her leg. The cleaned areas gleamed like jade and opal in the firelight of the cave. It was strangely warm and he could see a heavy wrap she had discarded to keep working in the cozy atmosphere.

Her eyes only flicked over him before returning to her work. Moments passed and he debated his words, but thought better of it. His little priestess was a creature of actions. His boots crunched in the dirt as he crouched next to her and drew up one of her spare cleaning cloths and mimicked her action on the fang. It drew an arch from her dark brow and she angled her head to allow her chestnut ponytail to fall over her shoulder as she watched him.

After a moment, she returned to her motions, though slower so he could catch onto the pattern and method. Her brows knit and she paused and focused on him, “Why do you hide your true appearance?”

He felt a chuckle rise from his throat at her seriousness. It was certainly not the question he had expected. It was also one fraught with complications and complexity. It did not seem fair to rain down on the little priestess all of his dark and terrifying life story. So, he had to find a simpler way.

A smirk curled his lips, “Do you not find me handsome in this form?”

The trick fell flat though. This time her eyes did not waver and while her cheeks warmed her voice was quick and level. “I found you just handsome and troublesome as a Jotun as in this form. I want to know why you disguise yourself.”

Perhaps evasion would not be so simple this time. He marveled under her compliment, even if it meant she was digging her heels in on the topic. In that case vagueness would be his next best bet. “I was born to Jotunheim, but taken to Asgard as an infant. This disguise is as much a part of me as the other, and frankly it prevents you from harm from the curse of the Jotun.”

This got her attention and she turned to fully face him and sat on the stone floor of the cave. Her eyes ran him over, and she looked solemn. “We have a Jotun family in the village. Hagen is our butcher, and he is coarse but kind. He came to counsel me when word spread that a Jotun had been found. He said your name was one of evil and not to trust you. That you held rank in Asgard and tried to destroy Jotunheim. You are Loki, God of Lies, Chaos, and Mischief and to the Jotun you are The Evil.”

Loki felt a cold chill run through his veins despite the warmth of the cave and fire behind them. He fought to keep his face stoney, “Then why save me?”

He expected tears or fear, but instead she looked at him with those warm honey eyes. Her expression was calm and her delicate fingers reached out to brush at the scar at the base of his throat. There was no threat to her actions, and he allowed the touch. Her energy shifted over his scar and spread over his skin bringing warmth he had grown to know was her doing.

“The great spell only saves those who fall to Thanos for a cause. You did not die for some selfish or evil purpose. You were doing something good. My gift as a priestess like Lola is to feel the course of a soul. Yours is old and long fought. The light that you found before death was one you earned the hard way. It is not fair to let that hard work go to waste.” Her voice was a sweet murmur as she pet the scar.

She might as well have run him through with the damn fang. Clever little brat had been sitting on all of this all along and still extended him kindness. She still healed him. His mind ran over her words. Serena had proved trustworthy enough so far. He was alive, and she had never so much as struck him with anything more than bread.

“What did this Hagen have to say to your theory?” He murmured dipping lower conspiratorially.

Serena gave a giggle, “Hagen dislikes logic and prefers his gut. He told me you would be trouble should I ensure your life. He was concerned for my safety and for the village.”

Slowly he brought his hand to cradle her chin, and smoothed his thumb over the plush skin of her cheek. They flushed, but she did not pull from him. Her trust now seemed even more strange. She had known all this time the possible threat he posed and had remained alone with him. She was no warrior and clearly had no idea how exposed she had been.

“I have no interest in harming you or any under your care”, he kept his voice clear and level.

She huffed and rolled her eyes, “Only to tease me.”

He chuckled as she detagled herself from him and rose to her feet. “It is my nature little priestess. Tell me are all of the priestess and priests of Sabal so chaste?”

Serena seemed to ignore the joke, and dusted herself off before she began rather seriously. “Sabal’s spiritual hierarchy are allowed to love as they please, though marriage is still a very traditional thing for those who are gifted with the planets power as we are. Any who intend to be our partners in life and parents to our offspring must prove themselves. Lovers however, are allowed to come and go. I am just an old fashioned spinster.”

He snickered, “You seem rather forward thinking in my case.”

She gave him a wicked little grin as she hauled the gleaming fang to her shoulder. “I am not chaste by choice. Most possible suitors are scared off by my son and his kin, though I just can’t imagine why.”

Loki felt a grin curl his lips at her playful mood, and followed her out of the cave. “Lola mentioned the Dragons were your kin. I had not imagined you so... intimately related.”

Serena huffed at him, “Jinx is my adopted son.” She motioned above to the massive male dragon he had seen as something of an alpha among the giant reptiles. His scales were like alexandrite and he nearly blended into the darkness as he stretched his wings. Amber eyes watched them with lingering curiosity.

The little priestess led him to a storage shed with an impressive locking door, “I was born on Sabal, but my first memories are all of Earth. Lola thinks I must have made my first shift as a very young child. Why to Earth I don’t know.”

“Shift?” Loki tested the new form of the verb on his tongue.

“It is said that Sabal was formed as the Space Stone was cast out during the first spark of life, the big bang. It branded the spark of this planet, its core. It exists out of phase from the rest of the universe most of the time. We have small windows when were are in sync with everyone else, and we trade, but the rest of the time we are on our own and hidden away.” She shrugged.

The Space Stone was the power source of the Tesseract. It allowed one to move or jump from place to place in space as they wished, much like the bifrost. This was downright fascinating, and meant teleportation from one spot in space to another was possibly as common here as the bifrost had been in Asgard. Not to mention, this grace of the Stone meant the whole damn planet existed out of sight, and those with its gifts like his priestess could use that power to do what else he could only wonder. Granted he could use his own energy to conceal items away in something of a pocket dimension, but a whole planet was another matter entirely.

“You can teleport?” He offered.

“On our own power, and to anyplace that is known or in sight of our mindseye.” She nodded.

“And you know of Earth? That is where I was on my way to with my brother to seek refuge for Asgard.” He murmured.

Serena placed the fang on a stack with others, and began to lock the storage building back up. “I grew up there. I ended up being taken in by a nice couple. Both were doctors and they were busy but thoughtful. I was well educated during my time there and did not want for anything. Until one day, I was in an elevator in their hospital to visit them at work and it malfunctioned. After a few minutes it dropped and I was on a very high floor. I don’t remember anything except landing in a nest. I landed on Jinx’s egg and while he hatched fine he also imprinted immediately on me. I couldn’t find his parents, and after days of wandering the woods I didn’t know what to do. Lola found us, and took us in. I was fourteen, having fallen out of the sky and into the role of mother.”

She cocked her head over her shoulder with a smile, “I know something about being caught between different places and different fates. Adjusting is not easy. There are some nasty rumors about me due to how rough of a start I made. They grew nastier when this little village grew prosperous from our dragons. Some of it is true, but not all.”

As they slipped into the large home and past the hearth she urged him into bed. He watched her paint the honeyed oil onto his skin and wrap it in simple linen at his wrists, ankles and neck. Her soft humming made him ease against the thin mattress, her soothing energy warming its way over his skin and urging along his healing. Even now with his true history hanging in the air she laid him to rest as gentle as a child and not the monster who often found himself bound and chained.

“So, you don’t think I am all trouble, just some?” He smirked, opening one lazy eye to watch her leave.

She tapped her lips thoughtfully, “That’s the trick to it right? A little mischief is fun. A little chaos is like a good storm. It makes you grow, strengthens the roots. Just only in moderation.”

“Goodnight little priestess.”

“Goodnight Trouble.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author's note-

 

So, first thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it, and I will update it soon.

 

Again, this is my first adventure ever into writing for the Marvel Universe, so please feel free to give me opinions. I am incredibly nervous about capturing a tone correctly for the characters, Loki chief among them. Also, let me know what you think! Thank you so much!!!

 

This has now been put through its paces by my darling Dragon!

 

Reviews are incredibly important to me because they are my only real way to gauge the audience.  I welcome all feedback, so please let me know how I did! Thank you so much for reading!

 

Love,

Persephone

 


	3. Chapter 3: Giant-itis

**Trouble**

**Disclaimer** : Loki, Thor, The Avengers and all related characters belong to Marvel and their incredible creators. I make no monetary profit from this work it is only for entertainment.

**Spoiler Warning:** This does occur immediately after the events of Infinity War! So be advised that spoilers are littered throughout even the first chapter.

**Author’s Note** : It has been a hot minute since I have dabbled in a new fandom. Oddly enough I have always thought the Tom Hiddleston embodiment of Loki was pure gold, but I never dared dabble in the complex Marvel fandom. However, after the amazing character development that Loki went through to be crushed in the first moments of Infinity War- I felt stung. Not just by a plot bunny on how to avenge this wronging of a character who had been so painstakingly crafted, but over how all of Asgard’s refugees seemed to meet a similar fate with the exception of Thor… and then like some of my ideas it wouldn’t leave me alone.

 

& then I met you,

& slowly but all at once my

Whole world began to change.

~ R. M. Broderick

 

**Chapter 3: Giant-itis**

The next morning rose and he found not a chipper Serena at the hearth, but Oskar. This unnerved him. Though he smoothly took his seat as though it nothing was amiss, he kept an eye on Oskar. The morning songbirds and his sense of peace faded as the hulking young man settled across from him. Oskar looked like he was itching for a battle somewhere far away, something his peaceful planet did not provide.

Oskar was near Loki’s height with soft brown hair that he trussed up into a braid, and shaved away the sides. His beard looked like it might have been trimmed and tidy some time ago, but it had been a forgotten task today. He was a quiet figure who prefered to watch on and mind his work through the day. So, to see him in an somewhat private setting was odd.

“Serena went into town today for trade. She asked me to stay behind and see if you would you like to come?” Oskar grinned over his mug.

Loki gave the brute a measured nod, and watched a grin take over his mouth. Oskar happily watched him eat and was pleased to learn he could ride a horse. Loki was pleased to learn the other farm hand, Fisk, would remain to watch over the keep. Fisk was an odd bird and made Loki wonder if he was the subject of a head injury or just mad. He babbled to himself, and toyed with knives constantly and had dark tattoos that filled in the hollows of his eyes and came to points over the apples of his cheeks.

The horses he found much to his liking. The breed was large to work the fields, but eager to stretch their legs in the crisp fall air. Oskar was all too happy to allow them to canter around the paddock while he readied their saddles. Once upon the gentle beasts, Loki actually felt a bit more like himself and he allowed his shoulders to roll in the leather jacket he had been given for the ride to match his pants.

These horses clearly knew their path and needed little to no guidance. Oskar drew his mount close, and cleared his throat. “Is it true what they say about you?”

Loki lifted a brow at his companion’s poorly hidden curiosity and muttered, “Some of it.”

That drew a laugh, “You sound like Serena.”

Loki kept his features placid, “Do tell.”

“People have gone mad with tales of all the things she has supposedly done, but she only did one thing. Granted she was gonna do more. Not that I blame her”, Oskar grinned.

“Remember Oskar I am new to this place and its tales”, Loki urged gently.

“Well, they say she murdered, poisoned, and pillaged. She could command a legion of dragons. All she ever did was attack one man, and he did threaten to kill Jinx.” Osker shrugged noncommittally.

“Has anyone ever told you how grand a storyteller you are Oskar?” Loki asked flatly.

Oskar grunted, but gave him a grin. “When Jinx was two or so he was about the size of the mare you are riding. He regularly accompanied us into town, and he begged to pull the cart. He loves to help his momma in everything she does. Unfortunately, the bigger he got the more apprehensive some of the villagers got about him living so close and trotting into town. People started to make comments. Called him a monster and shit. He was only a toddler and still hid behind her legs if a cat hissed at him with enough volume.”

Loki listened intently, “Indeed the masses are often terrible.”

Oskar ignored his comment, “Well we just waved it off as fear that people would learn from until one man decided to start campaigning to have Jinx killed. The damn fool said it out loud like he wanted start a riot. If looks could kill he would have fallen to the ground from the one Serena sent him, but she walked off all calm. That night though, she asked him to meet her at the pub to discuss her moving. If he could gather funds she would leave, or so she promised him.”

“This doesn’t seem terribly menacing on her part”, Loki yawned.

Oskar grinned looking downright proud, “When the bastard got there she poisoned his drink and carved out his eye and was working on his tongue when she was hauled off of him. She was torn off of him covered in blood screaming how he would not be able to see her coming next time.”

Now this was a powerful image. To picture his placid and kind little priestess doing something so feral took some imagination. Loki cleared his throat, “And you saw this act?”

Oskar grinned, “I was one of the ones who pulled her off of him. Little thing tried to stab me with a spoon in the tussle. Didn’t go through, but left the oddest bruise for weeks.”

That was enough to draw a snicker past Loki’s lips, “And how was all of this resolved?”

“Well, the town elders found evidence in his house that the man planned to kill Jinx so he was banished. Serena was sentenced to a year at a temple where she was to live with the spiritual elders to teach her to harness her anger and to parent Jinx. She came back with Jinx and then slowly other dragons began to arrive, and our little farm became a bit bigger.”

Loki took in the pride that came off Oskar in waves as they continued along the mountainside path. The village now was in sight and the small town appeared to be filled to the gills for market day. “So, this village simply allowed all of this to transpire.”

Oskar gave a nod, “Well, it helped that they found motive, but the people here chose to see it as a mother protecting her child. It also helps that Jinx has grown into a son any mother would be proud of, scales and all. He is alpha to the dragons, and protects the village. He is also gentle as a lamb with those who he sees as under his care. The village knows what a blessing looks like when they see it.”

Loki could see how this could sway them, but it while Oskar certainly seemed happy to give him the pieces to this puzzle they didn’t seem to fit together as neatly as he claimed. Before he could ask further questions though he found his mare was eagerly ambling through town. Here he could see many more of the mortal looking Sabal natives along with the dotting of far reaching aliens, some he had never seen before. One figure loomed from a tidy looking shop as they passed. A Jotun, no less, who Oskar waved merrily to.

“That is Hagen. He is eager to meet you now that you are awake”, his tour guide grinned like a cat with a mouth full of feathers.

“I can imagine”, Loki muttered, allowing his easy gaited mare to navigate for him, her gentle step minding children and objects in the busy area.

Seemingly at the end of town they found their farm’s stand, a massive set of tables with Serena and Lola busy with customers. Food and dragons’ product were all available and apparently so were small check ups. Serena was giving a little boy a once over for an apparent cough. Most shocking though was that Jinx lay neatly just to the side of the stand.

His body was covered with children who seemed to think he was their personal playmate. His great curled horns and spines did not deter them. The dragon blew gentle bouts of smoke from his nose for them to sneak about in and occasionally snatched one or two of the larger children up in his great talons, engulfing them. It was all met with happy shouts and laughter.

“Reinforcements have arrived”, Oscar grinned at the women.

The children seemed less enthused and one whined, “Does that mean playtime is over?”

A great rumble of laughter poured from the dragon as he sat up to his full height, and his voice came forth deep and velvety. “Indeed. Off with you then my minions.”

Loki attempted to school his features. He really did, but his shock must have been blatant. Oskar seemed to slot together his reasoning, “Did you not know Jinx could speak?”

Loki snapped his mouth shut and sent a glare at the farm hand. It wasn’t that he did not know. It was more that he had never even heard of a dragon that could speak in his very long life. Never seen or read of such a thing. Unfortunately, said dragon was watching him with dark amber eyes the size of a man’s head.

Jinx dipped his head towards his mother, arching his long neck over the table, “I thought you said he was clever?”

At this Serena let out a loud bark of laughter before she managed to clap a hand over her mouth and muster a dirty look at her son. He managed to shrink a little into himself and his spines drooped a bit under her look. It did not last long as his mother’s giggles won out.

Despite being the center of certain jokes for the afternoon it proved to be a nice day. Jinx was very clever indeed, and had a sense of humor to him that one would not expect. He observed people in a way that Loki could understand, like a predator. However, rather than stalking prey he liked to make wagers on how quickly they would make horrible decisions as he had learned was often their way. It was a game Loki quickly caught onto and liked. It also meant Jinx told him a great deal of the town gossip. Well, it was all good entertainment until Serena asked for Loki to go with her to the butcher.

“Come with me. Hagen wants to meet you anyway.” She smiled, taking his hand to attempt to drag him.

Loki relented, and moved along through town on foot with her arm playfully looped through his own. She ushered him in despite his trying a few tricks to distract her along the way. They passed through the doorway into the cool air of the shop with her laughter still ringing; no doubt the icy gifts of a Jotun could keep the goods of such a shop cold. Hagen set eyes on them and removed his apron to come around the counter and greet them.

“Hagen this is my friend, Loki. He will be under my protection until he finds his way here or onward. Loki this is my beloved elder Hagen.” Serena smiled reaching out to embrace the Jotun to his horror.

To his utter relief she pulled away unharmed. Hagen reached out and shook his hand roughly before turning his attention back to the priestess, “My beloved is upstairs and she would love to see you.”

Serena seemed giddy, but paused before rounding the stairs. Hagen motioned her forward, “I won’t harm a hair on his head.”

Loki watched her disappear beyond the stairway, and turned to see Hagen. The giant motioned him to follow and led him to a quiet courtyard behind the shop. Loki settled on a bench across from him.

“Why are you here?” Hagen grunted.

“I was killed by Thanos, and somehow revived and saved here. That is all I know.” Loki lifted a brow.

Hagen gave a chuckle, “You are not what I expected, Loki Laufeyson, or is it Loki Odinson?”

Loki grunted as the giant set beer before them, “I was born Laufeyson, but I certainly died Odinson.” Loki took a swig, “So tell me. How did you know who I was before I spoke my name?”

Hagen barked a laugh, “Your markings! It's true then, you truly know nothing of your heritage?”

Loki smirked, “Asgard was not interested in anything but how to kill Jotun. Even after the peace there was no contact for study or passing of information.”

Hagen rolled his eyes, “Every Jotun bares his markings and those are passed on by the mother. Your mother was the queen of my tribe. I would know those markings anywhere, and you are a certain size and have her dark hair. Its is a combination that only fits one legend. The son sacrificed to the gods and stolen by Odin, Loki.”

Loki felt his hands curl into fists, “Explain.”

Hagen grunted, but gave him a solemn look. “Your mother was Farba, Queen of the Woodland Tribe. She was a clever ruler, but when Laufey came to power he invoked the old way. This meant all unmarried queens were arranged into his harem. For most Jotun this is against our nature. We take one mate, perhaps two in a lifetime. Laufey amassed a dozen in his first year. Your mother was the thorn in his side, but somehow that resulted in you being their first birth to his herd of brides.”

Hagen leaned back with a heavy swig, “His war was also going poorly, so he punished our lands for wealth and resources. When Odin’s invasion peaked he sacrificed your mother to the gods, and then left you with her. From there I believe you know the story.”

Loki took a long draw from his own drink. His mind reeled, as the giant watched him. He felt the pull of curiosity win over the things he could digest later. “How did you come to Sabal?”

Hagen grinded, “My mate and I lost our sons to the war. We lost everything to it. When I recovered from my wounds we escaped on a ship, and traveled for a time. We heard of this place and after a few years we found it. We liked the wildness of the mountains and the sharpness of the cities. We made a new home here.”

Loki motioned to the giant’s hand, “And how did you lift the curse of Jotun?”

Hagen placed his palm flat on the table and ice crawled over the surface cracking as it went. “I did not lift the curse of Jotun. I simply blessed those who I deem family.”

“It is a shame I was not aware of this incantation before. It would have saved Serena some pain.” Loki admonished prying his drink from the ice topped table.

“If you prove yourself worthy of my time, I will teach it to you”, Hagen smirked.

Loki frowned as the giant squinted at him, “Did Odin stunt your growth or was it perhaps the Asgardian climate that did not allow you to grow properly?”

The god of mischief glowered, but managed a shrug rather than the venomous retort he wanted to bite back with. The giant did not seem pleased with the lack of answer, but by the grace of some divine power Serena’s voice interrupted, calling for them. He forced himself not to rush to the sound of her voice, and was pleased to be handed a parcel to carry. Anything to occupy his thoughts.

Serena cast him a concerned look, but left him to his own world. She lead him to where their group was feasting and urged him to sit with a warm hand on his shoulder. He deftly passed along the parcel and ate from the bowl that was passed to him. The mother who bore him had met an even crueler fate than the one that raised him. It was something so far detached from his long life, but felt like a blow all the same.

“Loki?” he had no idea how long she had been calling his name, but his priestess was looking at him with concern.

Her expression only seemed to deepen as his focus came to her. She rose and extended her hand to him. It was not as though he needed assistance getting up, but he snatched her tender flesh anyway as he rose. Her hand was small and tender in his own, but she wove their fingers together and pulled him along beyond the town into the quiet of the mountain path. Huge evergreens cut against the beginnings of an amber and plum sunset.

“What did Hagen say to you?” She whispered, risking a glance up at his emerald eyes.

He took in their surroundings for the first time as she still pulled him along. They had abandoned the worn path in favor of winding through the mighty trees. It felt oddly safe, secluded, and her footfalls were as sure on this unmarked wild land as his mare’s had been earlier.

“He told me the legend of my mother and how my father slaughtered her”, the words fell flatly to the ground with none of his normal elegance or forethought.

He felt her grip tighten on his hand. Her eyes seemed to search his for a moment, “Do you think this legend is true?”

“It likely is”, He muttered, watching her shoulders fall.

The crisp air filled his lungs and he watched her features. His little priestess took her role so seriously. His only and oh so determined ally. He wondered distantly what she would want as repayment when she saw him fit and well. It churned him, and he pulled her closer and purred, “Tell me priestess. What do you have planned for me when I am all better?”

She balked at the sudden closeness and change in his tone. Once her struggling proved fruitless she gave into it, and wedged an angry finger against his chest. Her eyes burned up to him and she took a hissing tone.

“I expect you to rise. I expect you to stop acting as a spoiled and manipulative brat, and take hold of the greatness I can feel singing in your damned soul.”

He chuckled, “You will find I am difficult to manipulate, pet.”

Her cheeks flushed at the new nickname, but she huffed, puffing her cheeks for a moment. Then, she growled, “I don’t believe in tying energy down. I just think you are lazy and small minded.”

He blinked and reeled back. She was all too eager to slip from his loosened grip. His mind fought over which to take in first the insult or the downright sinful image she had just conjured growling at him about binds. It didn’t help that she was still glaring at him with those golden eyes and her market day outfit was far more form fitting. Her loose blouse had a leather corset fitted over it to match her pants. This made her breasts look plump and round, not to mention gave the idea of how nice they might look in his palms. Her tapered waist stood out in pleasant contrast from her round hips and bottom. A fur wrap hung about her shoulders and likely kept her plenty warm from the chill, but only further outlined her lovely figure.

“Loki!” the priestess barked crossing her arms.

A smirk swept his lips up at the corners, “Old habits die hard.”

She snorted in a most unladylike fashion and gave him a shove, “Are satisfied that I have no alterior motive or need for you?”

He gave a bark of laughter and leaned down. Though this time he was careful to keep his hands to himself, “For now little priestess, but you should know satisfaction is not in my nature.”

She turned on her heel and continued on her unmarked path and tossed back, “I don’t know why I am nice to you!”

He grinned, “It goes against all advisement.”

Her laughter rang forth and he marveled at her smile as she tried to contain it. The air seemed clear again, and he followed on his own will until they reach an opening in the trees. Before them a small clearing reached out to a stark cliff. Beyond that the brilliant plum and amber meshed at the edge of the sea where the light colored surf lapped at the dark sand of the beach so far below.

She marched on to the lip of the cliff and smirked at him deviously, “Would you like to make up for your childish behavior?”

He lifted a brow at the young maiden, “Oh please tell me how I might make amends?”

“Jump”, she chirped motioning to the edge.

“Beg your pardon?” He chuckled. He could survive that fall, but he wasn’t looking for anymore pain or prolonged healing.

“Suit yourself”, she grinned impishly before launching herself over the edge.

He looked at her plummeting figure and at the silent path they had taken for a moment. No one would know, but there was also no one to help. Damn! He hurled himself over the edge pointing himself at her frame to try to close the distance between them. Yet, just as she got within reach a huge shadow swept over them. Then, all he could see were scales.

His hands reflexively reached out and took hold of anything for purchase. His senses adjusted to the sudden change in direction, he was no longer falling. Huge scales were beneath his palms, and they were rising at an alarming rate. All the while that sweet laughter rang out like chimes before him.

The priestess’ huge dragon leveled out over the sea. Her son’s massive dark wings occasionally dipped to skim the surface as he steered them home. The maiden sat nestled between his hulking shoulders and relaxed against his neck. He had landed just behind Jinx’s wings and did his best to feel settled astride his broad back. She giggled and rose to walk carefully to him.

“You didn’t have to jump”, she smiled, sitting all too casually next to him.

“You say that now”, he grunted with a smirk.

“All I will ever ask is for you to try. I will always ask. I make no demands”, she poked at his chest.

“And if I decline? What happens then?” He asked as her home came into view.

Her gaze fell to the painted sunset and her words fell a hushed tone as some whispered secret, “You will break my heart.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author's note-

 

So, first thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it, and I will update it soon.

 

Again, this is my first adventure ever into writing for the Marvel Universe, so please feel free to give me opinions. I am incredibly nervous about capturing a tone correctly for the characters, Loki chief among them. Also, let me know what you think! Thank you so much!!!

 

This has now been put through its paces by my darling Dragon!

 

Reviews are incredibly important to me because they are my only real way to gauge the audience.  I welcome all feedback, so please let me know how I did! Thank you so much for reading!

 

Love,

 

Persephone


	4. Chapter 4: Green Eyed Monster

**Trouble**

**Disclaimer** : Loki, Thor, The Avengers and all related characters belong to Marvel and their incredible creators. I make no monetary profit from this work it is only for entertainment.

**Spoiler Warning:** This does occur immediately after the events of Infinity War! So be advised that spoilers are littered throughout even the first chapter.

**Author’s Note** : It has been a hot minute since I have dabbled in a new fandom. Oddly enough I have always thought the Tom Hiddleston embodiment of Loki was pure gold, but I never dared dabble in the complex Marvel fandom. However, after the amazing character development that Loki went through to be crushed in the first moments of Infinity War- I felt stung. Not just by a plot bunny on how to avenge this wronging of a character who had been so painstakingly crafted, but over how all of Asgard’s refugees seemed to meet a similar fate with the exception of Thor… and then like some of my ideas it wouldn’t leave me alone.

 

She wore her hopes like a crown,

An outspoken soliloquy of dreams.

~ Ariana

 

**Chapter 4: Green Eyed Monster**

The dark haired trickster found that in the short weeks he had been on Sabal he already read all the books he could find in the farm house. While the property was large and its creatures ancient he bored of it quickly. Boredom, something he had not known since childhood when his mother would punish him with it. She would withhold her attention, her knowledge, and reduce him to chores for his temper or foul tricks. The thought of Frigga brought about an ache he could never settle back properly into hiding, and always stirred him to action in order to distance himself from it.

Occasionally, he would use his seidr to aid in the work on the fields and it earned him a proud smile from the little priestess. That too unsettled him. The little priestess in general was an enigma to him. She took him in and asked for nothing but his effort. She did not demand he be “good” or “right”, always just asking him to be better. Somehow those words that were meant to hold less demand were turned into an invisible yoke about his shoulders.

He found himself working and toiling about for this farm with his magic and his returning strength. It was something he found odd and revolting each time he went about the task, but it seemed a debt he needed to pay. He was alive. He was fed. He was laid to rest each night as tenderly as any of the priestesses other beasts. What was left of his conscience his mother once worked so hard to cultivate sought some balance, even if it was mostly to ensure she did not come to collect on it later.

Yet, even when he misbehaved she exposed herself further to him. Each time he bit with venom she reached out with kindness and he felt that unspoken debt grow and weigh even heavier on his shoulders. She never asked him for anything personal, only menial tasks. “Will you help with this? Will you go with me here?” Her warm little hand would touch his as she said please and that invisible yoke bore down on his shoulders.

When she smiled though it all seemed to fade away. When she pressed close on their walks or rides to town he felt stronger than in all his years. His cruel common sense hissed at him to ignore the dalliance. She was young, soft and lovely, but she would never understand. None ever did. Yet, her chastity gave it all the feel of a certain dance. A pattern to his days and a boundary he could count on in their little games to keep them safe from one another.

That was until the the land grew colder, autumn leaning toward a harsh winter. It brought a visitor he cared little for, a young man by the name of Keno. He was the son of the orchard owner and suddenly began making regular trips with bushels of apples and fruits for trade and sometimes gifts. He was tall, broad shouldered and sported long blonde hair he braided down his back. He proudly wore a new beard which was neatly trimmed and cropped to his jaw.

Keno had one mission and it didn’t have a damn thing to do with apples. All the strapping young orchard heir wanted was an excuse to talk to the apprentice priestess, sometimes making up ailments just to get her to look over his chest if he could summon some wheezing. The apple boy’s blue eyes followed the priestess’ every move, and he did his best to shower her in compliments.

He would babble on about how her hair was long and such a beautiful shade of brown, like fertile earth. Her eyes were golden like the fires of the hearth and skin like fresh cream. The boy needed work, but he was trying. Loki almost felt bad for him, especially since Serena was always one to keep busy. She often found some reason to wander away from her admirer, or to find something to clean. Sometimes she began to deal with the loads of fruit he brought, which often meant his attempts at poetic words were missed as her focus was elsewhere.

Lola often laughed outright at the boy, but he was not deterred or shaken. Loki’s pity and mild entertainment shifted on his second visit when the boy began to touch the little priestess, his massive hand tentatively gripping her waist or arm before he spoke. This got her attention, but Loki burned when his little priestess agreed to go with the little whelp on some walk. He had not felt jealousy lick at him so since his childhood where he was always pitted against Thor.   

When the pair left he found his boots urging him in the opposite direction. Far from those feelings; though it would be so easy to follow and get rid of the apple boy all together. He felt the dark sand shift under his steps and the roar of the sea before him. He seated himself on a rock away from the spray of the sea, his mind trying to untie the knot it had formed.

It had been nearly two months, and he had grown attached to his little priestess. She was lovely and of a certain age, so suitors were only natural. Frankly, with how bold and sweet a prize he had seen her to be it now seemed odd that there was only one. She was petite next to his frame, but not tiny. She was curvy and lush in all the right places with a spark of wild that drew the eyes of men when she moved through town. Her voice was soft and her words clever, though cuttingly honest.

Her dark hair and golden eyes made her look all the more wild. Her gentle humming escaped from full lips and lovely cheekbones gave way to flush when flirted with properly. Were the other men of these lands so easily frightened off by the beasts she sang to sleep? Fools.

“Loki!” A harsh voice barked over the crashing of the waves.

Fisk approached in his ambling fashion, and the trickster rolled his eyes. The older farm hand smirked at him as he got closer, forcing the tattoos around his eyes into a strange shape, and muttered. “You look like you could use company.”

“I think not”, Loki barked and stood to leave.

Fisk raised a bottle in one hand and two glasses in the other. “I have brought an offering”, the man grinned devilishly.

Something in his crazed smile irked the prince, so he relented. Fisk plopped down in the sand and poured the strong smelling liquor into the glasses. The man tossed his own back and merrily poured himself another before repeating the process. Loki sipped at the fuel like substance while Fisk seemed set to get hammered rather quickly. However, as he tossed back his fourth he eyed Loki with oddly focused dark brown eyes.

“You should know we see the way you look at Serena”, Fisk grinned at him devilishly.

Loki only arched a brow and finished his first drink. Fisk happly refilled their glasses. His speech was now smooth and even, “You are not as clumsy as the Orchard Heir, but you are both the same.”

Loki again, chose to watch the drunk taunt him. He could kill him later. After he finished telling him whatever he came to say.

Fisk grinned up at him, “But you don’t know what he knows, and I like a fair fight. I am sure you wouldn’t understand, but I will tell you all the same.”

“You will tell me what?” Loki smirked, ignoring the small slight. How did people simply fall into his clutches?

“Serena is 22 summers, but I met her when she fresh and new to this world. Her father was Lola’s nephew, and while Lola is old and happy to sit back and let her apprentice do her work now she was a force to be reckoned with in her day. Her nephew was much the same, but unlike Lola he had no common sense. His parents raised him in the city and while he was clever, he just was too easily taken in by the wilds of our world.” Fisk smirked

Loki watch the man press his palm into the cool sand, seeming to search for the memory before continuing on, motioning to the cove beyond. “A siren was spotted in the bay. Such dangerous creatures are rare, so we take notice when they come prowling close. Serena’s father noticed the damn thing seemed injured, and despite all our orders he took a small boat out to her. We watched her drag him beneath the waves in horror, and searched for hours to find nothing.”

A softer smile came to Fisk’s face though and he closed his eyes. A haunting combination due to his markings, “Winter gave way to spring and one day the damn man walked into town. He smiled and embraced us. He was no ghost, and he told us how the siren had not drowned him. She had dragged him away to an underwater cave. He had healed her, and taken her as his wife. Each night he walked into the sea, and some days he would come bumbling in like any normal visiting relative. He was happy, and it wasn’t long before one day he brought along a little bundle that we now call Serena.”

“She was as happy and chubby as infants come. She inherited her mother’s eyes apparently, and a few gifts, yet she was as mortal as any other child. I would sit here and watch her play with her mother in the waves. Even as a small babe she was a strong swimmer, and her mother would sing her to sleep with that voice all thought could only be used as a weapon.” Fisk ran his finger around the rim of his glass in thought.

His brown eyes grew dark, and his posture sank. “One day the visits stopped. There were no more lullabies on the evening tide. We searched, but only found a few belongings that washed ashore. Lola could sense something terrible had happened to her kin in her very bones. Then, word came that a siren had washed ashore on a shore in the West. I rode for two days to see the truth. Her beautiful and terrifying mother was dead, and she had died fighting.”

“So, that is why Serena made her first shift?” Loki murmured.

“Yes, and while she knows her parentage we don’t try to push for such a terrible memory to surface. You could imagine our happiness when she returned though! Covered in mud and half starved with a dragon hatchling in her arms, though it took us three nights of hearing her little song to find her. Lola could not believe it, and raised her as her own.” Fisk grinned sharply at him, “And you might have notice how Hagen favors her. Her father was a friend of his. The first to be kind to the brute when he first arrived.”

“Indeed, now you say you could hear her song?” Loki felt the word prick at his memory.

“She was singing her little dragon to sleep”, Fisk frowned at how low the bottle was getting.

“I see, and you tell me all of this because?” Loki leaned back against the rock.

“I believe in a fair fight! You must pay more attention to Lola. She may look blind, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t know what happens in her house. Their bloodline is revered among the blessed for a reason. You are foolish to dismiss her for the appearance she intends to give off.” Fisk chuckled.

“Just what will Lola do?” Loki rolled his eyes pouring himself another drink.

“She will get in the way of your plans. She favors the Orchard Heir.” Fisk smirked wickedly.

“And what are my plans?” Loki let his tone drop for a taste of menace.

“Hell if I know”, Fisk grumped. “You seem to be lazy and self centered, but I see the way you look at Serena, our blessed little half breed of the ancients. She has the heart of a man eater, but chooses to use her song to encourage those she heals to rise rather than sink. Prey literally falls into her lap on a regular basis by trade and she has never batted an eye. She hums to the wounded and sings lullabies to the mighty beasts of old. She deserves a suitor just as strong of body and mind, though you also need some sense by the looks of it.”

“Just why would you help me in such an endeavor?” Loki eyed the man so blatant and coarse before him.

Fisk grinned impishly, “I see the way you look at Serena. Like a wolf after a lamb. It is only fair you should know what mighty teeth and claw are beyond that pristine disguise.”

“So, you don’t want to see me eaten? Here I thought you would want a good show”, Loki hissed sarcastically.

“I believe in a fair fight”, Fisk stood on wobbly legs and began to wander away, “And I see the way she smiles at you.”

Loki frowned watching him go before downing his drink, “So the little priestess is a siren.”

Darkness crawled closer and the rolling of the waves soothed him. He relaxed against the rock at his back, and felt the cool sand beneath his palm. The alcohol proved potent and made his body hum. This was an odd place. So full of questions and so full of unprovoked answers. Footsteps drew near and his head lulled to find his little priestess moving towards him in the dusk light.

“Was I not invited?” she cooed settling next to him.

“Did you have a nice walk?” Loki snickered and enjoyed the frown that drew her lips down.

She mustered a shrug, and looked over the empty bottle. “Keno is sweet, but he doesn’t get a hint.”

Loki chuckled darkly sitting up to lean towards her, “Not man enough for you?”

A deep blush ran over her cheeks and leeched down to her collar, but she managed to glare at him, “You would put it that way.”

Loki only leaned closer, enjoying the spark of anger in her golden eyes, “What then? He falls at your feet it seems.”

Serena gave a sigh, but didn’t pull away. Her eyes grew too sad for his taste before she closed them. “Keno is kind and handsome, but my life has responsibilities that would break his shoulders if he tried to take them on. I need someone who can take on my son.”

He held his hands up in surrender leaning back, “You and your son make for a mighty home. It takes a strong suitor to reach such a mantle… but you seem to know what you want.”

She threw her hands in the air in some effort to release her anger, “I know I could be a tender consort to someone like Keno, but he would have me some delicate maiden fawning over all the wealth he very well could provide. Men like Keno have been raised to see themselves as the knight riding in to save the girl from the dragon, and frankly I don’t need to be whisked away. I am the damn dragon.”

Her ranting was clearly some release for her and she panted like a warrior pleased to sheathe their weapon. That must have not been a nice walk at all, the trickster mused. Her cheeks were still a soft pink, and her golden energy pooled around her like honey to his knowing eyes. She chewed her lip as she looked at him in such a deliciously disheveled state.

Then, his priestess sighed and looked at him with that unflinching honesty. “I want someone strong enough to take the helm once in a while. Someone to provide a sense of security and partnership that will make myself and my son stronger, safer. I will take nothing less.”

A broad smile curled his lips back into a proud grin, “That’s good. Know your worth. Besides you would eat him alive.”

His priestess shook her head at him and informed him he must be drunk. While she was in fact correct it did not make his words any less true. He rose and she helped to dust the sand from him with care. He might have wobbled a bit for show, so that she would be so sweetly tucked to his side should he need aid in balance. He draped an arm around her and enjoyed how neatly she slotted into his side.

It was a marvel as she put him to bed. Now, he no longer received any wraps or salves, but she would often check to make certain he was settled. It had been several nights since she had lingered though, and the sweet sound of her humming soothed the anger that had stirred in him. She was all too correct in her assumption about making a good wife.

His little priestess quietly fussed over him in his drunken state, even if it was mostly a facade. She helped remove his boots and set them neatly together with quick fingers, then drew a warm cloth of sweet smelling water over his face and hands. This was no chore to her. There was no demand or order given. Something pulled at him that she would likely not allow him the same favor in her rooms. He hauled off his thick shirt, and smirked at her sudden need to do anything in another direction. To his shock though that seemed to be the door, so he called out.

“Why don’t you sing to me like all your other beasts?” Loki grinned, motioning her closer.

She perched on his bed with a scowl and pressed a warm little hand to his chest. He allowed her to press him into the bed. His hopes were dashed for more when she rolled her eyes and moved to take it back. He snatched it, and held it with care under his chin.

A sigh heaved past her lips, “Go to sleep Trouble.”

“Sing me a lullaby”, he purred, nuzzling the silky flesh on the back of her hand.

Something clicked into place in her mind. He watched her eyes widen, and then she drew near. Her hand in his hold cupped his cheek while she curled over his chest. She pressed a tender kiss to his temple, and tucked her cheek to his so that her soft lips bushed the shell of his ear.

Her voice was a tender whisper, “I wish I could.”

Oh the things he could do, his mind muttered. However, he remained still other than to tip his cheek against hers, enjoying its velvety texture. He longed to roll them over. Ravish her and make her sing. Let her eat him alive if that was the cost. This sweetness, this pure and freely given beauty deserved to be fed however it was meant to be. As his mind spun she rose, and tugged at her hand with a sad smile.

He pressed a kiss to her palm enjoying the way her fingers fanned out over his cheek even after he let go of her wrist, “Goodnight little priestess.”

“Goodnight Trouble”, she whispered as she slipped away.

For the God of Mischief there was no rest though. He curled an arm behind his head and inhaled the lingering scent of bergamot on his skin. His little priestess was powerful in her own way, though her own words told him she longed for a protector. It was not a role he had seen himself in often, at least not by choice. She had said lovers were allowed for the blessed, but she coyly sidestepped any of her own. She wanted what she wanted. The question then became, was she what he wanted?

He trusted her more than most, and she had yet to miss a step in his eyes. Yet, she was so very young, and painfully so when compared to his many years. She was a mortal, and while the creatures of Sabal seemed stronger than those of Midgard, they died all too quickly. There were ways around that though if he truly took her as his wife. Her heritage could also be helpful in that endeavor frankly.

She was also beautiful and sweet. No friend or lover had ever cared for him as she did, and she knew some of his great crimes even as she did so. A stern little ally, eager to step into his storm. Her son strangely set him at ease. He was not eager to be a parent, but Jinx was bridging adulthood. The dragon was clever and a clear product of his mother’s gentle touch and quick wit.

He was back to his old self, and certainly capable of courting the maiden. Did he want this life though? A farm in a rebellious hidden realm to call home? It didn’t set quite right in his thoughts, but... Serena. The thought of her seemed to open a door he probably should have left closed.

He had always had lovers. He had always admired those with sharp minds, powerful gifts and beautiful bodies that crossed his path. His own clever words and charm had always given him an easy path to them and their beds. A wife though, or mate? Whatever the term would be on this realm, that form of joining had never crossed his mind.

Yet, the idea of the little priestess slid open such a door, and the marched in as a conquering force in his dreams. These dreams were not of a wedding or the delights of deflowering her. No, they were of shared evenings like the one that had just passed where she would join him in bed. He could pass the warm cloth over her face and delicate fingers, run his hands through her unbound hair, and pull her bare to his skin where she could sing softly to him from her place tucked under his chin.

“How does one seduce a priestess?” Loki mused in the darkness of his room.

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Author's note-

 

So, first thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it, and I will update it soon.

 

Again, this is my first adventure ever into writing for the Marvel Universe, so please feel free to give me opinions. I am incredibly nervous about capturing a tone correctly for the characters, Loki chief among them. Also, let me know what you think! Thank you so much!!!

 

This has now been put through its paces by my darling Dragon!

 

Reviews are incredibly important to me because they are my only real way to gauge the audience.  I welcome all feedback, so please let me know how I did! Thank you so much for reading!

 

Love,

 

Persephone


	5. Chapter 5: Shapeshifting Scoundrel

**Trouble**

**Disclaimer** : Loki, Thor, The Avengers and all related characters belong to Marvel and their incredible creators. I make no monetary profit from this work it is only for entertainment. 

**Spoiler Warning:** This does occur immediately after the events of Infinity War! So be advised that spoilers are littered throughout even the first chapter.

**Author’s Note** : It has been a hot minute since I have dabbled in a new fandom. Oddly enough I have always thought the Tom Hiddleston embodiment of Loki was pure gold, but I never dared dabble in the complex Marvel fandom. However, after the amazing character development that Loki went through to be crushed in the first moments of Infinity War- I felt stung. Not just by a plot bunny on how to avenge this wronging of a character who had been so painstakingly crafted, but over how all of Asgard’s refugees seemed to meet a similar fate with the exception of Thor… and then like some of my ideas it wouldn’t leave me alone. 

 

If chaos is a work of art, 

Then my heart is a masterpiece.

~ D. Antoinette Foit

 

**Chapter 5: Shapeshifting Scoundrel**

The winds drew cold air over the sharp mountains and into the valley of the farm. It stirred the maiden’s long hair and urged her to draw her scarf closer to her neck. The fur drape at her shoulders did wonders, but nothing so bulky could be allowed to get in the way of her work. A massive and elderly dragon lay on his side resting as the priestess cleaned a gruesome wound. How the old male got the nasty laceration on his side was still rather vague, but at his age it would mean several nights in the dens until it closed fully.

Jinx loomed nearby with a stag hanging limply in his jaws. Her sweet boy, always thinking ahead, had been bringing the old male meals since the injury. Jinx fretted over the dragons that had hoarded together, but this male was something of a favorite. He responded to no name, but the mother and son often jokingly called him grandfather behind closed doors due to his many centuries. 

With the males lazily sharing the kill she was able to resume cleaning the wound. Stitches were not a viable option. So, the wound was cleaned and then packed with a healing mixture. The old dragon would have a sizable scar, but he would live to on to be grumpy another few years. However, packing the wound was not so easy especially this early on. It was painful, and the mangy old reptile would try to run her off if rather than get the treatment he needed. A distracted dragon was best not to be squandered. 

A frown carved her lips downward. Men of all species were a problem as of late. First, Keno arrived with the fall harvest, again. She had sent him away last year, but this time he had been clever and less up front about his intentions. This time the very nice boy from the orchard wanted to hold his ground and prove to her that he would make a good husband. The problem was, he was right. Keno would be a very good husband, but she was not meant to just be a wife. Keno saw her eyes and the mighty reptiles who trusted her and fell in love with the idea of her. He was foolishly sweet. 

A sigh pushed past her lips. Keno was somehow the least of her worries. In the past few days, Loki had become more mercurial than ever. One moment, he would disappear or even storm off. The next he would demand her attention, and in her foolish haze she always gave it. Now though, it was worse. Now, he knew her deepest secret. She lingered on how he found out, the night he asked her to sing and was so painfully affectionate. He was also drunk.

Loki knew she was more than just a priestess. How the shapeshifting scoundrel knew about her siren mother she could sort out later, but it broke her heart the way he asked her to sing. It was the curse of the blessed to know someone’s soul. For most this only happened when they used their power to search an individual much like asking their name. Her mother’s blood made her power stronger, and while it was helpful with her gifts it was a two way street. She could feel Loki from the moment she laid eyes on him. For her, souls spoke to her in song, and his melody was so haunting and war torn in those first few moments she could not let him die alone. 

The stronger he grew the more powerful it became. She struggled to ever turn from him, to ever say no to him, or to punish him no matter his behavior. Every time he spoke she could feel the weight of his words like velvet on her skin. He was always watching her with those emerald eyes as if appraising and scoring her. Keno’s arrival had sparked a new level of mercurial behaviour though, and this same Loki was pressing kisses into her palms at night. When he did, that the damn song of his took on a whole different tune. 

A blush colored her cheeks. He had been drunk. It was a chant in her mind anytime she lingered on the memory. Yet, for several days after that incident Loki had taken to crossing certain lines. They had been alone together frequently during his recovery. He often took walks with her into the forest when she went to gather herbs, or even for a ride into town for an errand. He had always been rather the gentleman. The morning after he asked her to sing the dark haired man had offered to accompany her to town for a quick run for items needed for Lola. 

He had stayed so close to her that even on horseback their legs had brushed a few times. Then, when she was in the middle of swinging her leg over her steady mare a pair of familiar hands took her by the waist and plucked her from the precarious position. Her feet touched ground and she spun to find him looking placid and rather bored. He motioned her along, and all though their quick run through town she felt his touch. In the herb shop she found fingertips tracing her shoulders over the fur cloak. While haggling with the blacksmith there was a warm and large palm at the small of her back encouraging her to step forward proudly. 

They were not inappropriate, but that did not make them not at all intimate. Loki was playing some kind of game, and it made her nervous. He was far too handsome and experienced to be after what it seemed. She didn’t have power other than what he already knew. Her wealth was sizable for the area, but nothing like what he was used to. The sensation of being a pawn did not settle well on her skin, so she remained in the dens. The old male had been hurt the evening they had returned from town. 

She was not too proud to admit she was hiding. Better to wait him out. The priestess grumbled lightly. After three days in a dragons’ den she wanted a bath, but the nice bathroom with the fancy standing showers was in the house. But, there were the springs. It was cool enough at night to go now. The warm water was always nice and a tradition for her as a member of the blessed. Springs are symbolic for their purification. They are also full of minerals that do wonders for the skin.   

She shook her head at the idea. All the supplies she needed to bathe, no matter the location, were in the house. She would have to face him. She rose and strode along the worn path from the caves to the house under the darkness. To her delight she made it to her room without encountering a soul. She slipped into the adjoining bathroom and relished in the warm water she could cleanse in. Once clean she wrapped herself in a robe and began toweling her hair. 

“You have been avoiding me little priestess”, a deep voice called quietly. 

The maiden stopped fussing with her dark hair at the sight of the man sitting on her bed. He was reclined against the wall with one leg on the floor and the other lazily sprawled wide. His emerald eyes watched her carefully in the warm light of her room, and he motioned her closer. She obeyed slowly, and toyed with the towel still in her hands. 

His hands opened up to hers, and she closed her eyes when she felt his warm, rough palms take her own. She heard him take a breath, likely annoyed. He pulled her down firmly, and those hands took her waist with care to spin her. Her eyes opened to find her back to the man with his leg just to the side of her hip. He was so close she could feel his warmth from his chest at her back, but that song was so soft in her ears she wanted to cry. 

 

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The god of mischief did his best to remain calm. He had tried to be patient. Implored himself to allow the little priestess her space as she recovered from his play at her. Honestly, he had barely nipped at her heels on this metaphorical chase and she seemed baffled. It both stirred his rage that she would think him so gentle, and for some deplorable reason made him want to be gentler still. 

Now, she was trapped though. Her frame was wrapped in thin cotton and her dark locks fell in a wet and fragrant tumble down her back. She made no move to escape him, but he could practically taste her anxiety at his invasion of her personal sanctuary. He clucked his tongue to remind himself to be direct, and urged forward with his question. 

The towel was pulled from her hands, and carefully smoothed over her locks. His voice was quiet, but his frustration was clear. “You have to tell me what I have done. What offense I have commited.”

Her shoulders sagged, and she shook her head. He kept his touch gentle, but firm enough so that his presence could not be mistaken. If she wanted to imply he had done nothing to offend then he would push further.

His long fingers began carefully combing through her long chestnut locks. He thredded his fingers with purpose and began to braid as he spoke, “I don’t blame Keno for his wants, but you are correct to want more. You would be a vision pinned to some ancient tree for the taking or writhing in a fertile meadow. Perhaps you could even be coerced into some deliciously appointed bed, but I have gathered you to be far too wonderfully wild to have a taste for that too often would you my pet?”

He grinned as the rosy blush colored her neck and cheeks. He tied off the braid and traced her spine through the soft material of her robe. Her arch only made him hum, “Tell me why do you allow me so much liberty with you my little priestess?”

She released a breathy sigh, and her arms curled to cross her chest. He leaned forward to pull her to him so that her back was flush to his front. Her body gave a delicious little jolt at the touch, and her pink tongue drew over her lips when she felt his own body’s reaction to her. Patience was a sinful thing.

“Loki”, her voice was a plush whisper and he enjoyed the way his name filled her mouth.

She turned in his arms just enough to face him with her pink cheeks and fierce eyes, “Why are you doing this? What do you want?”

A smirk crawled up one side of his face, and he swept a hand up to trace her throat with his fingertips. Her fluttering pulse teasing his skin before he tipped her chin up. He kept his grip loose urging her to meet his gaze with all her willfulness. A thumb traced her plump lower lip when he felt satisfied with her position.

“You know exactly what I want little priestess.” His smirk broadened to a grin at the flicker of her ire rising in her molten eyes. “The question is what do you want, pet?”

“I am not your pet”, she hissed surging towards him and rose to her knees to be at eye level with him, “And I already told you what I wanted days ago.”

Oh how clever his priestess was. Oh how honest she was. She did not want a lover. She wanted exactly what she had laid out those days before. Exactly what she knew the damned little apple heir could never be. He drew her to him again, perhaps a little harshly from her gasp. Adrenaline throbbed in his ears, and he eagerly spread one hand across her lower back to arch her into him. The other had never lingered from her face, and took a stern grip. 

His voice was perhaps a bit harsh for any proposal, but he didn’t really want it to be a question. “Be warned my little priestess, I am no boy with wants. I am a god.”

She fisted her hands in his shirt at the growled words, and glared up at him. Her voice was a pant, but her clever smirk made heat roar through his veins, “And yet the same rules apply.”

He took in her dark hair swept lazily into the braid he had woven, her eyes all but glowing in the dim room, and her plush lips parted after her breathy snark. He drew down on them without thought or protest from her. As soon as their lips met he sighed at the softness. His hold eased, and the priestess melted into him willingly. The tight fists in his shirt in some pitiful show of rage spread, and smoothed her small hands over his shoulders. His own swept to the back of her neck from the taunt hold of her jaw and happily angled her mouth against his own. 

He swallowed her squeak when he nipped her lower lip and delighted in the invitation to taste her honeyed mouth. Her velvety tongue shyly tasted him, and he hummed at the warm fingers now curling into his hair pulling him closer. He was delighted in the turn of events, but his damn need to finish his progress pulled forward. He pulled away from her and took pride in her small attempt to follow his mouth with her own. 

“Loki?” she blinked at him, licking her now swollen lips.

He gazed at her, pleased with the short work it took to render her in this state. He let his fingers swirl over where they held purchase on her arched back and nape of her neck. He drank in the trust she glowed with even now. Her warm thin fingers toyed with his hair soothing them both when they were perched on precarious ground to meet each other. 

He felt his mind flounder for words that normally poured from him like wine. His priestess had a way of stunning him sober. A terrible thing for someone so used to buzzing with power and heady stirrings of corruption. One of those sweet hands dipped down to trace along his cheek. 

“What is wrong?” Her eyes were soft with concern.

His mind quieted as he leaned into her touch. He nuzzled at her palm. Her smile was patient, and he felt entranced all over again. A giggle peeled from her lips when he spun them pinning her half heartedly into her pillows. He leaned back with a smirk at the unexpected and swift bout of play.

“Darling, I have never been much for rules”, he tutted.

His priestess rolled her eyes, “There are not many for even you to break.”

He pressed a kiss to the fingertips on his cheek before nibbling them gently earning a swat from the other hand with an exasperated sigh from his less than enthused prey. He cocked a brow, “I’m listening darling.”

“You must ask to court, nicely.” She spoke quietly.

He nodded along, “What does that entail?”

“You must ask, and you must demonstrate something to show that you are worth consideration.” She intoned watching him toy with her hand. “The courting is determined entirely by the pair, but when they wish to finalize it with a ceremony the one courting the blessed takes on a challenge. Once this is complete the ceremony occurs and they are bound.”

Loki smirked down at her, “I count four steps. Plenty of rules to break.”

She shook her head with a smile. Her eyes fell closed when he dipped close again and she sighed into his lingering kisses. Meeting his lips in utterly unhurried gentle near chaste brushes that could burn him with their saccharine nature. 

She pulled away from him and sank into the rough silks of her pillows. Her expression was warm and contemplative. When he tipped her chin up her golden eyes took their time to meet his gaze. He took so much pride in how she did not shy from him.

“This is what you want little priestess?” He murmured.

Her hand dropped to let her fingertips trace the scar at his throat, “I want to be able to sing for you.”

His heart tightened at her little whisper. Her words were so honest. It was a tiny and precious confession that he wanted to cradle in his hands. She could sing for her blood, her kin, her chosen. He pressed a kiss to her cheek, dropped more to knuckles as he set her hands at her sides, and one more taste of those sweet lips. He slipped away and drew her blankets over her. 

He took care to whisper, “Sleep little priestess. I have work to do.”

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Author's note-

 

So, first thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it, and I will update it soon.

 

Again, this is my first adventure ever into writing for the Marvel Universe, so please feel free to give me opinions. I am incredibly nervous about capturing a tone correctly for the characters, Loki chief among them. Also, let me know what you think! Thank you so much!!!

 

This has now been put through its paces by my darling Dragon!

 

Reviews are incredibly important to me because they are my only real way to gauge the audience.  I welcome all feedback, so please let me know how I did! Thank you so much for reading!

 

Love,

 

Persephone


End file.
